


paradiso.

by soulofme



Series: Youth [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Memory Loss, POV Eren Yeager, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9059437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: Don't ever forget me. Don't ever erase me.





	

My mother’s hair was shorter than I remembered.

It was still a rich chocolate brown, but now it was dotted with strands of grey. I had to look really close to see them, though. It was as thick as ever. She often made the joke that she would die with a full head of hair. I didn’t like to think of it.

“How have you been?” she asked. I nearly jumped. We hadn’t said a word to each other since she picked me up from the airport.

“Good,” I answered, fingering the leather cord wrapped around my wrist. “I’m good.”

She nodded and reached to put her windshield wipers on. “Mikasa’s home. You two can go see Armin later if you want.”

“Okay,” I said. My voice cracked on the word and I cleared my throat. “Maybe we will.”

My mother fell silent again. We pulled into the driveway and grabbed up the groceries from the backseat. I shrugged my backpack on and held a container of corn flakes to my chest. My mother struggled to unlock the door before Mikasa swung it open.

She looked exhausted. Her skin had an almost aged look about it. Her eyes landed on me. The expression on her face was unreadable, but then her small lips parted in a forced smile.

“Welcome home,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t try to smile and she didn’t say anything else.

I helped my mother put away the groceries. Soup cans, instant hot chocolate mix, chips, celery. I put it all in its proper place and leaned back against the counter when I was done. My mother absently fingered a few strands of her hair. Mikasa snapped a hair tie off her wrist and handed it to her. My mother smiled gratefully.

I forced my gaze down to the ground.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

 “He went for a walk,” my mother replied. Her voice sounded far-away, like I was listening to it from all the way across the room, and it did nothing to ease the violent churning in my stomach.

“Let’s go see Armin,” Mikasa said. Her cold fingers curled tight around my wrist.

I let her drag me out of the kitchen.

**—**

Armin had his glasses pushed up on his forehead. He greeted Mikasa kindly but without much enthusiasm. They had already met before I returned home. They already got their initial greetings out of the way.

His clear blue eyes landed on me. His lips curled up into a boyish smirk and he yanked me towards me. I stumbled over my feet before my arms encased his body. I was instantly surrounded in warmth that combated the intense chill from the outside air.

“Welcome home,” he said. His breath was warm against the shell of my ear.

“Yeah,” I said, and pulled back quickly. He didn’t seem surprised by my eagerness to get away.

He led Mikasa and me into his apartment. It was small. The hallway was narrow, made even more so thanks to the laundry hamper pushed up against the wall. I paused in front of one of the walls while Mikasa stepped further inside. There were pictures plastered all over it. Some were framed; others seemed to just be newspaper clippings.

I reached up to trace the edge of one of the frames. There was a man in it. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I didn’t get a good look at all of his features. I found myself staring at his intense, grey eyes.

“Do you remember?” Armin asked. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall.

I looked away from the man and looked at the rest of the pictures. There were three boys, all with varying shades of brown hair. One had freckles, one had a buzz cut, and one had a long face that reminded me of a horse. The next picture was of two girls. One had her long, brown hair in a ponytail, and the other was blonde.

“Marco, Connie, Jean. Sasha and Historia,” he paused, staring at my face, but I refused to look at him. “Sound familiar?”

“No,” I said. I felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. Angry, I stepped back from the wall.

Mikasa was sitting on the couch watching TV when Armin and I entered the room. I plastered a smile onto my face and dropped my body down next to her. She curled an arm around me and I leaned down to rest my head against my sister’s shoulder.

“Whatcha watching?” I asked.

“You’ll remember soon,” she said instead.

I frowned and looked at the screen. It was a commercial for some kind of drug. I closed my eyes and let my body sink back into the couch.

I wasn’t so sure that she was right.

**—**

I had nearly a month off for winter break, so Mikasa and Armin led me around town. Armin took us to the bookstore he worked at. 

I sank down into one of the chairs and watched as Armin helped a customer. Mikasa had rushed home earlier. Dad was back from his walk.

I didn’t want to see him. I always felt some kind of lingering resentment. It was strange, considering how he had been nothing but good to me growing up, and Mikasa told me it was probably something left over from the past. She obviously knew what it was.

I didn't like to think about it.

Armin looked over at me. I smiled and sat up. He flashed me a brief grin back before he led the customer towards the cash register.

The door swung open and a blast of icy air filled the room. There was a group of three, two boys and one girl, and one of the boys looked faintly familiar. My mind felt like it was filled with thick sludge as I struggled to put a name to the face. I felt my breathing start to pick up, and before I knew it Armin’s cold hand was pressed against my clammy forehead.

“Eren,” he said urgently, and I forced my eyes to focus on his face. He smiled reassuringly and patted the ends of my damp bangs. “Breathe, Eren.”

I took slow breaths that seemed to fill my lungs completely with air. My body felt strangely numb, and my eyes sought out the three strangers again. The girl and the boy I recognized seemed lost in their own world, but the second boy was approaching us slowly.

“Is he alright?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed together. I stared at his face. He had grey eyes, just like the picture I’d seen yesterday, but they were unfamiliar to me. He was definitely a stranger.

“He’s fine,” Armin said, standing from his squatting position on the ground, and slid his hands into his pockets. “Eren just gets overwhelmed sometimes.”

It was true. In addition to the gaping black hole that was my lost memories, I often had what Armin dubbed "episodes". I would break into a cold sweat, my breathing would pick up to the point I was forced to take short, gasping breaths, and my awareness of my surroundings would diminish into nothing. I had been getting better, but something about the group of friends I was watching had triggered it.

The boy looked down at me curiously. I flashed him a grin. “I’m fine.”

He nodded and stepped back. Then, out of nowhere, he paused.

“Eren,” he said. He seemed to be testing the name out, like he was unsure of what he was saying, and to ease his worry I nodded. “Your name’s Eren?”

Again, I nodded. An odd expression came over his face. I couldn’t place an emotion to it. It seemed to be an amalgamation of many emotions, but they were so intricately infused that I couldn’t sort out one from another.

Armin seemed to be studying the boy. I wanted to ask him if he recognized him, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words. The boy smiled tensely and slipped away from us.

I turned silently to Armin. He ruffled my hair.

“You’re alright, Eren,” he said.

I looked down at my hands. They were trembling.

**—**

Armin and Mikasa took me to see Connie, Marco, and Jean later in the week. I stood awkwardly in the living room—I didn’t know whose house it was—as they stared at me. Then, all at once, they moved.

“Holy shit, man!” Connie crowed, launching himself at me. He was a good head shorter than me. I stared down at him, my arms lingering limply by my sides. “I thought you weren’t gonna come back!”

 _Come back_.

It was still a concept that I struggled to understand. I remembered Mikasa and Armin and my parents easily, but everything else seemed to be scenes from someone else’s life. My memories included bodies but not faces, words with distorted voices, and an overwhelming feeling of frustration. I couldn’t even remember what I had done in a past life. Mikasa and Armin refused to tell me. They insisted it was something I should remember on my own.

“I guess,” I said, and Connie released me as if he got burned. Guilt stabbed me like a hot rod, but I ignored the simmering pain bubbling in my gut.

“Ah, right,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “You don’t—”

“Are you guys hungry?” Marco asked, though his eyes were fixed on me. I shook my head, but he turned into the kitchen anyway. “I’ll heat up some leftovers.”

Connie scampered after him. I glanced at Jean. He slid his hands into his pockets and shuffled forward until we were mere inches away from each other.

“Always knew you had a thick skull,” he murmured. I watched him, waiting to see what he was going to do. He snorted softly and flicked my forehead. “C’mon, hero. Everyone’s waiting on you.”

His words didn’t strike a chord with me. He screwed his lips up to the side before his expression relaxed. I thought back to the picture hanging up in Armin’s hallway. He seemed older now. Tired, less relaxed. Now that I thought about it, a lot of the people in my life seemed like that. Mom, Mikasa, Armin, my father as well, probably.

It was a disturbing thought.

I shrank back from Jean. His sharp eyes narrowed into dangerous little slits.

“When do you plan on waking up?” he asked me. I stared at the ground so I wouldn’t have to look at his face.

“Soon,” I responded, though it sounded like an empty promise.

**—**

The boy from before was back.

He slid into the chair in front of me and clasped his hands in front of him. There was something oddly professional about it.

“Eren.”

“That’s me,” I confirmed. The boy relaxed. He held out a hand to me.

“Farlan. Farlan Church,” he paused, scrutinizing me, and I shifted uncomfortably beneath his calculating gaze. “You…have no idea who I am.”

“No,” I admitted sheepishly. I shook his hand out of politeness. He released me instantly and pitched forward with a drawn out sigh.

I looked at him, alarmed, but Farlan seemed to be okay when he sat up again.

“He remembers you,” he began cautiously.

“Who?”

“Levi,” he said. He frowned when I appeared as clueless as before. “You have a lot of history.”

“Do we?” I murmured, and leaned forward to rest my chin on my palm. I felt exhausted, suddenly, and I looked mournfully at the cup of coffee at Farlan’s elbow.

“Well yes,” he said, rubbing his hands together gently. He looked up at me from beneath his lashes. “Isabel and I were gone by the time you…ah, wait, you probably don’t remember that either.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek hard, frustrated, and gave a quick, abortive nod. Farlan sighed heavily again and slumped down in his seat.

“Levi, huh?” I repeated. “What’s he like?”

Farlan seemed to be taken aback.

“Abrasive,” he started, drumming his fingers against the table. “Reserved.” He paused then, shrugging with a careless grin. “Unpredictable. Yeah, that’s it. _Unpredictable_.”

“Unpredictable,” I echoed, tasting the word. Farlan watched as I repeated it again, softer, before he sat up straight. His elbow hit the coffee cup. I watched it totter precariously before it stilled, my breath caught somewhere in my throat, and looked at his suddenly alert face.

“Maybe it’d trigger something if you saw him,” he suggested. He reached into the bag at his side and produced a small notebook. He tore a blank, white page out and scribbled something onto it. I didn’t bother to try and read it upside down. He shoved the sheet of paper to me and paused again, his fingers resuming their incessant tapping against the table. “I mean, you don’t have to go. I just think—”

“I’ll go,” I said with certainty, and Farlan visibly brightened.

“Really? Wow, okay, thanks,” he said, nodding slow as his eyes met mine again, and I forced out a smile I hoped looked real.

**—**

The apartment building was about as intimidating as a building could get. It towered above me to a ridiculous height. From where I stood, there seemed to be no end. I squinted up at the top, wincing as light reflected off a panel of glass and shined straight into my eye.

I pushed my shoulders back and gripped tight onto the straps of my backpack. I had an hour to kill before Mikasa and Armin wanted to go shopping. I figured that this conversation wouldn’t take long. It wasn’t like we’d be able to reminisce on the good old days or anything like that.

I stared at the paper in my hands. It was stained with coffee, the words smudged to the point that I could barely read them, but I knew I was in the right place. I swallowed hard and approached the elevator. The fourth floor. I needed to go to the fourth floor.

Crumpling up the piece of paper, I slid my hands into my pockets. Something like anxiety curled in my gut. I felt like a swarm of butterflies was about to burst right out of me, but I knew that was impossible. The ominous creaking of the elevator did little to quell my worries. Before I could focus on it more, the doors glided open and introduced me to a pristine, clean hallway.

I stepped out. My sneakers squeaked obnoxiously loud against the tiles. With despair, I turned to look at the elevator. The doors shut mockingly before the sound of it taking off reached my ears.

“Shit,” I said, and even that seemed too crass for the obviously high-class building I was currently inside.

I ambled down the hallway. My eyes were fixated on the golden numbers on the doors. They gleamed beneath the harsh light white in the hall. I stopped in front of the seventh door and stared at it.

My fingers reached up to trace the number before me. It was nearly eye level. It seemed brighter than the other numbers in the hall; I was sure it was just a trick of the light or something. I curled my hand into a fist and brought it down solidly against the door.

No one came to answer it. I couldn’t hear any movement inside. I chewed my lip and stepped back. He wasn’t home. No use waiting around.

As I turned to leave, I heard a distinctive squeak from behind me. I stopped, my hands subtly shaking, and faced his apartment again.

His face didn’t seem familiar. His eyebrows were furrowed, his hair trimmed into a neat undercut, his arm braced against the doorway. I looked at his eyes.

They were grey. This time, I recognized them.

I tested out the name. He looked surprised as he stood up straighter, his arm falling down to his side. Suddenly re-energized, I stepped back towards his apartment.

“Levi?” I asked.

He gave me a slow, almost imperceptible nod. He jerked the door open wider and pressed himself back against the wall so that I could enter. I slid my sneakers off and lined them up neatly against the wall. He stared at me with narrowed eyes before he disappeared down the hallway.

I followed after him hesitantly. The backpack on my shoulders suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. I found myself pausing halfway down the spacious hallway. There weren’t any pictures of newspaper clippings. The wall was bare, white, and perfectly unblemished.

I pushed forward.

“Black tea’s fine, right?” he asked. His voice was low and smooth. I frowned.

“I don’t drink tea,” I said.

He paused, hands wrapped tight around a mug, and nodded once.

“Okay.”

He picked the mug up and all but shoved it back into the cabinet. I winced and watched him, somehow feeling like I had offended him. He came into the dining room and yanked out a chair before he circled the table and sat on the other side.

I shrugged my book bag off and sat down. The seat was hard and uncomfortable. I met his eyes and instantly regretted it. He looked like he was picking me apart and putting me back together.

“Levi,” I said for the third time. He clenched his jaw.

“How much do you remember?” he asked. His voice was sharp now. I cringed and rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly.

“Um…” I started. “I don’t remember faces or names. Sometimes I think I remember conversations, but they slip away before I can really focus on them.”

He gave a short snort in response. “So nothing, basically?”

“Sure, I guess,” I muttered in reply.

Levi leaned back against the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression didn’t seem as harsh as before. There was a certain trace of exhaustion on the hard lines of his face. His eyes had bags under them, telling of numerous sleepless nights, and I wondered why they were there.

“Who do you think I am, Eren?” he asked. “Who do you think I am to _you_?”

I paused, considering his words, and gave him a helpless shrug.

“A friend, maybe,” I murmured. He frowned and I bit into my lower lip. “Or maybe we worked together?”

He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a thin leather cord. I stared at it before he tossed it onto the table. A loud _clang_ sounded, and when I glanced down I saw there was bronze key attached to it.

I reached forward and lifted up the key. It was dull, with numerous scratches on its surface, and I wondered what the significance of it was.

“Your father gave you that,” he said, and I looked up at him quickly. “You wore it all the time. Never took it off for anything.”

“This is mine?” I asked, staring at it. I pursed my lips. “How’d you get it, then?”

He took a shuddery breath and shook his head.

“You knew you were dying,” he muttered. “You ripped it off and gave it to me.”

He didn’t elaborate further that. I turned the key over in my hands.

“Why?” I asked.

“You didn’t want me to forget you,” he said. He shook his head again. “Kinda ironic, don’t you think?”

I nodded dumbly, feeling oddly attacked, and clutched the key tighter.

“We were close, then?” I asked softly.

“Sure,” he replied, though he way he said it informed me that we were. He uncrossed his arms and let them hang by his sides limply. “They said you were the only person capable of changing me.”

I looked at Levi, surprised. He seemed just like how Farlan had described him. I didn’t see how I could’ve brought out another side to him. It sounded impossible.

“Was I?” I asked.

“You were,” he replied honestly.

 “How long have you known?” I asked. He shrugged.

“Long enough,” he muttered. “I can’t pinpoint the exact time. One day I didn’t remember and the next day it all came back to me.”

“Weren’t you scared?” I asked. The thought of all these memories flooding me at once seemed daunting.

“No,” he replied. “I felt like something was missing for a while. It was just like things were falling into place.”

I rested against the back of the chair. It dug into my shoulder blades uncomfortably, but I didn’t focus on the feeling for too long.

“Do you think I’ll ever remember?” I answered. Armin and Mikasa kept telling me I would. I wanted to know what Levi thought, though.

He pursed his lips slightly as he regarded me with a blank expression.

“I don’t know,” he said. I appreciated his honesty. “When you remember…don’t get scared.” His words left a strange impact on me. He suddenly went stiff, and he crossed his arms back over his chest again.

“Scared?” I repeated.

“You never said you were scared then,” he said. “But I always kind of knew.”

“Were you scared? Back then, I mean,” I asked. He laughed bitterly.

“We all were,” he murmured. He looked at me. “You helped with that, though.”

“Was I good person?” I said

“Sure,” Levi said, shrugging. “You were a hero.”

Hero.

I stared down at my hands. I didn’t feel like one.

“What about now? What am I to you now?” I asked.

“Eren,” he replied. “You’re just Eren to me now.”

I winced and looked down. I reluctantly raised my head to look at him again and studied his face. He watched me just as cautiously as I watched him. Feeling bold, I sat up a bit in my seat.

“I loved you, right?” I asked. He narrowed his eyes.

“You were a kid.”

“But I did,” I insisted, and he said nothing to dispute it. I twisted my fingers together. “How old was I?”

He paused before sighing softly. “Fifteen.”

“Fifteen?!” I said. I was fifteen four years ago. I could hardly imagine being in love at that age. I whistled softly. “I was so young.”

“I didn’t like thinking about it,” he murmured.

“You were older than me, then?” I asked. “How much?”

“Enough,” he answered curtly.

“Well, how old are you now?”

“Twenty-three.”

I nodded. That wasn’t so bad.

“What about you?” I asked him, trying to gauge his expression and Levi narrowed his eyes. “I loved you. But did you love me?”

He didn’t answer for a while.

“I was hard on you,” he said. “I didn’t treat you any different than others. Well, at least I tried not to.”

I thought about his words.

“You did, then,” I said, and he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Yes, Eren,” he muttered. “I loved you.”

“I want to remember,” I whispered. “I want to remember everything. I want to remember _you_.”

“Then you will,” he said. “If you want it, you’ll get it. That’s how you always were.”

I nodded and chewed at my lip again.

“What about you? What did you want?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, and it appeared to take a lot of effort to say that.

I opened my mouth to reply, but my phone chimed from within the depths of my backpack. I unzipped one of the many pockets and retrieved it, cursing softly when I realized it was Mikasa asking me where I was.

“I have to go,” I said, standing up so quickly that my chair dragged loudly against the floor. “My sister—”

“Go,” he said quietly.

I dropped my phone back into my bag and shouldered it again. As he walked me towards the door, I found myself gripping onto the straps hard enough to turn my knuckles white. I lingered awkwardly in the doorway, torn between leaving and staying. He seemed to notice my struggle because he sighed.

“Go, Eren,” he said again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I took in every detail of his face. He stared right back at me, meeting my stare levelly, and I found my breath getting caught in my throat.

“I will remember,” I said determinedly.

Levi looked at me silently.

“You will,” he finally agreed, and when the door clicked shut behind me I felt like I could breathe again.

**—**

There was a sharp pain originating from somewhere near the back of my head. I curled onto the bed and pulled the covers tight over my forehead. I felt stifled. I gritted my teeth as another wave of pain shot over me.

Words, nothing more than fragmented voices, played over in my head. The voices sounded distinct, and soon they were linked to faces. The faces that were once blank began to get defined. I could make out noses, eyes, and lips, features that were previously unknown to me. Names began to get assigned. I remembered green capes and sharp blades. I remembered flying.

I shot up in bed as a particularly vivid memory came back to me. It started as nothing more than black, but then colors began to fill my mind. Grey. I remembered the color grey.

I remembered Levi.


End file.
